Cops and Robbers: A Murder Mystery
by Batmanskipper
Summary: When Skipper assigns the team a questionable mission, things begin to go wrong starting from the very next day. With the detectives hot on their trail, and the murders fighting desperately not to be caught, things can only go from bad to worse. By worse, I mean another body, and a missing commander. And to think it was all because of a seemingly harmless training exercise.
1. To Kill a Flamingo

"Gentlemen," Skipper announced. There was a click as he switched off the Skipper's log.

"Skipper, I though all missions have to be…"Kowalski began to question as the team members and a few 'civilian specialists' looked at each other uncomfortably.

"I'm getting to that Kowalski. This mission is off the record."

"What?" Private gasped.

"You heard me. Unofficial, I will deny we ever said this," Skipper paused, looking every man in the eye, "Black ops."

"I don't much like the sound of that."

"If any of you would like to opt out of this mission," Skipper turned away from the group dramatically, "Leave now. Nobody will think any less of you. In fact, I'd prefer it if all of you left now, even though I'd have no one left to actually complete the mission." Private shifted uncomfortably, "You have ten seconds. When I turn around, I will assume that anyone I see is on board, and you will not be able to back out. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5…"

"Skippah…"

"In or out, I don't care why." Skipper interrupted, "6. 7…" Skipper heard the sound of the patter of Private's footsteps, "8. 9. 10." He turned around, "Alright, let's get started."

"Next to you, and looking through the fishbowl, are the three civilian specialists I have deemed necessary to call in," Skipper announced, "Bada for muscle, Phil for his ability to read, and Lulu who has come down from Hoboken to participate as our glamor factor. Kowalski is in charge."

"Yes!" Kowalski shouted, before shrinking back under the glances of the rest of the team, "I mean, it is an honour to be selected for the mission."

"Good," Skipper turned over a page on the notepad, on which was drawn a 'pretty picture', "It is vital to the security of the zoo that this target be neutralised with as little fuss as possible."

"Skipper, I don't understand why? I mean, if you only need him to appear dead you could use that toxin Barry perfected…"

"Need to know information, Kowalski. All _you_ need to know, is that he must be liquefied within the next twenty four hours or we face total starvation. Now," Skipper turned over another page, "After careful study, I have developed complicated plans for the neutralisation of the target. Do not deviate no matter what the circumstances…"

* * *

"I'm not sure I feel right about this," Lulu thought aloud.

"Now's not the time to get cold feet, Lulu." Kowalski reminded as they waited for the others to arrive.

"But actually killing someone. Doesn't it seem a bit harsh? Are you sure it's necessary?"

"If Rico had made the call, yes I would question it, but I trust my commanding officer's judgment. He wouldn't call something like this unless we had no other options." There was a pause in the conversation as Lulu evaluated this.

"Have you ever done anything like this before?"

"No. I have absolutely no data to evaluate with. I just have to trust that Skipper knows what he's doing."

* * *

"**Pinky knows we're after him, so he's gonna be holed up in there pretty tight. However, that's nothing Lulu can't get passed…"**

"Hello?" Lulu shouted over the wall of the habitat, "Is anyone there?" Pinky looked over the top of the brick wall surrounding the habitat cautiously, not recognising the voice.

"Who are you?" the bird demanded suspiciously.

"My name's Lulu."

"Why haven't I seen you before?"

"Oh, I'm actually from Hoboken. You see, I was coming here to visit an old friend, but when I got here, it turned out he'd already left to meet me back in Hoboken. Well, it was awfully sweet, but now I'm kind of stuck out here till the next transfer comes in the morning. I saw everyone was asleep and I didn't want to disturb them, but I saw you had all your lights on so I figured I could ask you if there was some other way to get back."

"There's the no.8 bus."

"But then I heard they call that the graveyard eight, and I don't much like the sound of that. Are there any other…"

"…**While Lulu's got him distracted, Kowalski will pick the locks on the fence, once Phil gives him the go ahead from the office where he'll have looped the security footage."**

"Fake Morse code? I guess that's the signal." Kowalski theorised, starting work on the high tech electronic locks Pinky had somehow stolen and installed. Well, if he could take the fish right out from under their noses, and by Copernicus he still hadn't forgotten that, it wasn't too farfetched for him to gather the technical expertise and equipment.

"Yo, you gonna take much longer with that?" Bing questioned, "Cause I think Lulu's runnin' out a conversation."

"A little patience and less volume would be appreciated." Kowalski hissed.

"Wha' do ya mean…?" Bing growled louder than was comfortable.

"Shhh!" Rico interrupted, reminding the gorilla to crouch a little lower below the wall.

"Alright, we're in."

"… **now that Kowalski's in, it's up to Rico and his blow dart. Remember, Pinky can fly, so if he hears the slightest peep out of you before you've fired the dart, he's going to get out of range pretty fast, so, to answer your earlier question, Bing, this is strictly a stealth mission."**

Kowalski opened the gate as little as was possible for Rico to wriggle through, and shut it immediately after the other penguin had entered the habitat. Rico crouched in the shadows cast by the empty fish crates Pinky had set along the walls to prevent them from simply jumping into his habitat, until he was within range of the bird, who was either sorely love struck, or beginning to get irritated by the simian femme fatale. He then regurgitated his blowpipe as silently as possible, and took the shot. The bird swayed on his feet a few seconds, raising a wing to rub the area where the blow dart had embedded itself, before collapsing to the ground, dead.

"A' clear." Rico called softly. At this cue, Bing lumbered into the habitat, though trying desperately to keep said lumbering quiet where he lifted Pinky's body over to the wall and dropped it.

"**The blow dart Rico will use is made of a top secret compound, which starts to disintegrate a few minutes after contact with a liquid, in this case, blood. That way, there will be absolutely no trace of our involvement, considering the fact we happen to be the only people in the zoo with access to blowpipes."**

"**But Skipper, they won't believe he just keeled over and died," Kowalski objected, "and it's not exactly secret the fact we still consider him a security risk after the fish cakes incident."**

"**Don't mention those disgusting excuses for nutrients!" Skipper complained, "No, in the morning the investigator will discover that Pinky was taking in the morning air, when he slipped on the wall, and fell to his death."**

"Down!" Kowalski hissed almost the moment Bing released the body. Immediately Bing ducked down below the wall as Marlene, probably out for a midnight stroll passed by. When she was gone, Bing looked down over the drop at the late Mr Pinky.

"Hm. Guess dat mook heard all your complainin' about noise," Bing commented, "He even fell silent…"

"Shhh!"

"A'right, A'right." Bing muttered, following the other animals out of the room.

* * *

"I was just sleepin' in my tree when this thing comes crashing down," Fred stated.

"Yeah, now can you tell us what you saw," Skipper encouraged in his best attempt at a film noir detective.

"Well like I said, this thing comes crashin' down to the ground, right in front of my tree. Oh yeah, and there was a sleepin' guy tied to it. That's strange, cause you know, I was sleeping at the same time. What was that thing?"

"Two of our planes, and Pinky's dead body."

"Ouch."

"Well," Skipper turned away from Fred, rolling his eyes, "I don't think we'll get much more from him. What'cha got for me, Kowalski?" Skipper asked, turning his attention to the scientist, who was dusting for prints.

"Well, Skipper…" Kowalski began.

"Sorry Kowalski, but there can only be one film noir Humphrey Bogart style detective on this case." Skipper interrupted, catching the fedora and raincoat Rico had regurgitated and tossed him.

"Is that a film noir he's doing then?" Mason asked. Phil signed something in reply, "No Phil, he's never seen a classic movie in his life, he just thinks certain ladies in the group will like it."

"Right, we have some clear sets of prints," without his detective act, the scientist looked extremely confused, "two on the control stick, and if you'd let me take a look at the body…"

"Not gonna happen."

"Right, clear claw marks on the upholstery too. Ostrich, and according to the prints and feathers, Shelly, but Skipper we'll need to determine the cause of…"

"The body won't be touched until we can get a doctor in to perform an autopsy." Private explained.

"I can do an autopsy." Kowalski replied. Skipper shot him a glare before pulling him off to the side.

"Listen Kowalski, don't think you're completely out of the woods. There's somebody seriously trying to mess things up. Now, if you get caught…"

"I'm going to have to clear myself because you can't step in and if I performed the autopsy then that evidence wouldn't be open to me because…"

"And let me remind you of this: my men will never be accused of tampering with evidence. Murder's fine, but that's outright obstruction of justice."

"Ok…" Skipper turned back to the rest of the group, leaving Kowalski to ponder his leader's thought processes.

"I've just gone over Kowalski's qualifications, and he's no doctor." Skipper stated.

"I knew I should have finished med school." Kowalski concurred, only to be glared at by Skipper. He never was much of an actor.[ss3]

"The only doctor I know is my cousin in Nova Scotia…"

"What a nice place to set up a practice," Private thought aloud wistfully, only to be interrupted by a slap.

"It might take him a while to get down here…"

"Or, I know a doctor who I'm pretty sure is within the tri state area," Marlene interrupted.

"Do tell," Private encouraged.

"Dr Blowhole."


	2. Planted Evidence

"Are you insane?!" Skipper exclaimed. The otter smiled mischeviously.

"It's about time you two tried to bury the hatchet," she replied, seemingly amused despite the location of the conversation.

"Maybe you don't get the meaning of the term arch enemy, it basically means we're gonna hate each other, forever." Skipper replied stubbornly.

"Well, do you know another doctor?" Marlene replied, knowing she had Skipper cornered, "You aren't afraid, are you?"

* * *

"For the last time, and I hope you say no," Skipper cast a quick glare at Marlene, "are you willing to play ball?"

"Shut that thing up, red one," Blowhole yelled at a lobster off camera, "I'm trying to gloat as my arch enemy begs for my help."

"I am not begging," Skipper snapped.

"Sorry, what was that? You admit that you inferior flightless birds have given up…"

"WILL YOU PREFORM THE AUTOPSY?!"

"Well, of course I can, pen-gu-in," Blowhole replied, whatever construction was going on at his end now silenced, "no need to shout."

* * *

"Skipper did it." The villain stated.

"What?" Skipper exclaimed over the gasps of surprise coming from the rest of the zoo, "Says what evidence?"

"It was worth a try," the dolphin grumbled, "alright, here's the report: time of death was approximately nine o'clock yesterday evening. The cause of death, fractured skull causing swelling of the frontal lobe, probably caused by impact against a hard surface, though it's hard to determine the origin of the particles surrounding the wound due to extensive burns and contamination caused by the crash…"

"In English?"

"Pinkie hit his head on a hard surface and he can't work out what that surface was because everything is covered in dirt and fuel." Kowalski translated.

"Alright, as for fingerprints, claw marks etc.," Blowhole turned over a page on a suspiciously Kowalski-like clipboard, "the only claw marks found belong to a _Struthio camelus…"_

"Common ostrich."

"Well there you go, that's it," Blowhole announced cheerily, "Can't wait to find out who wins, I personally am routing for Kowalski and…"

"That's enough from him," Skipper switched off the monitor, effectively ending the call, "here is the evidence, and because the majority of it is insanely boring and seemingly pointless, Kowalski is going to read it out because he actually likes this kind of thing."

* * *

"I just can't believe it was Shelly," Mason shook his head sadly, "well, I suppose she was quite capable of kidnapping Rico's girlfriend."

"It's the best explanation of the evidence," Doris, pointed out, fixing he makeup. Nobody knew where she'd turned up from, but they all assumed Kowalski had invited her.

"But she wouldn't be strong enough to actually, well crack his skull." Private queried.

"Indeed, however, she can run 49 mph," Mason explained, "She could build up enough momentum to smash him into a wall or something. Dreadful business"

"What about the planes," Bing questioned, "I thought it was only yous penguins who can fly them."

"…Well, I do remember she was behind me when I opened the hanger," Private admitted, "she could have seen the password, and she does know how to start one. She was with Rico when he was fixing them the other day."

"She said she was out walking in the park at the time of the murder," Doris added, "Alone. Skipper saw her leave her room at Marlene's when he arrived for dinner."

"…two days before the murder," Skipper questioned, "did you say these exact words or not: "Pinkie, if you so much as talk to me again, I will kill you"?"

"I…" the ostrich stuttered.

"There are ways of checking. A whole network of cameras around the zoo." Skipper threatened.

"Yes, but I didn't really mean…"

* * *

"What have we done?" Kowalski asked sadly.

"ain' nothin' 'e can do 'bout it." Rico replied somewhat insensitively.

"But there has to be something we can do," Lulu pleaded. Phil signed something to her, "I'm not going to give myself up, and I don't think any of us would do that." Finally Kowalski looked up from his clipboard.

"I've got one other option, but it's risky."

"Well?"

"We could plant new evidence so it looks like someone else did it."

"But then we're back to square one," Lulu translated for Phil, "We can't just keep blaming people until they get bored."

"Well we'll just have to pick someone who deserves it," Kowalski replied.

"'m fine wi' that." Rico concurred. Phil nodded.

"A just don' wanna get in no trouble." Bing concurred.

"That's still wrong!" Lulu protested.

"Hm…" Kowalski was back to his clipboard.

"Are you even listening?"

"Nope. But I've thought of some more options."

* * *

"It's too late to get cold feet Kowalski," Skipper protested. The 'special' team was once again gathered in the HQ, Private had said he'd gone out to check something, "If you want to get yourselves arrested, that is entirely up to you, but there's no way I'm framing myself."

"But Skipper," Kowalski pleaded, "I don't know what they're going to do to Shelly, but if you explain to them that it was you on a mission; it's not murder if it's war."

"And you think they'd believe me more than you?"

"You could contact your superiors…"

"Please skipper," Lulu batted her eyelashes.

"Boys," Skipper announced, climbing out of the fishbowl entrance, "and lady, and civilian specialists, I can't give you any assistance."

Kowalski had to say he wasn't expecting this. He'd expected Skipper would have already admitted his guilt to save an innocent, but it would seem he had misjudged him.

"Well how do you like that?" Lulu criticized, "he could fix this whole thing immediately if he could be bothered."

"Well he's not going to have any choice," Kowalski stated grimly.

"I thought we agreed that framing…"

"He can get himself out, Lulu," Kowalski argued, "We're just helping him do the right thing."

* * *

"Shelly?" Private carefully woke the sleeping ostrich.

"Hm?"

"Wake up Shelly," Private repeated excitedly, "I can clear you."

"What?" Shelly sat up. The two were in the spare equipment store room, turned into a makeshift prison. Marlene had offered to allow the ostrich to continue to stay at her habitat, like Shelly had the last couple of weeks while her habitat was refurbished, but had objected to the cage.

"I went and checked the security tapes of Pinkie's habitat at the time of the murder," Private explained, "He was walking around just fine, pacing the habitat, and then suddenly the footage cuts and he's dead on the ground."

"But how does that prove…"

"Do you know how to loop the zoo security footage, and do a really bad job of it?" Private unlocked the makeshift cage.

"No."

"In fact," Private then realised he didn't like the direction his own argument was taking, "the only people who would know how are Skipper, Kowalski, Rico and myself."

"But they could have given instructions to just about anyone." Shelly countered desperately. Private paused a second, noting the sudden panic, but assumed it was just the moon light playing tricks on him.

"Well, I hate to have to say this, but you can't type. Still, one of us had to be involved," Private started to leave the habitat, "I don't like any of this, Shelly."

* * *

"Phil doesn't quite get it," Lulu translated.

"Alright, I'll go through it again," Kowalski replied, looking on at his masterpiece of planted evidence, "everything is set up so that it works like this: Skipper follows exactly the same route as us, however, since he doesn't have our team, he uses a separate distraction, namely, peanuts. I've left some empty shells contaminated with traces of Skipper's feathers just outside zoo wall the habitat backs on to. He then sneaks in behind while Pinkie is leaning precariously over the wall and knocks him over. I've placed some foot prints that should match almost exactly to Skippers in a trail around the habitat."

"But doesn't Skipper have an alibi? He was at Marlene's. That was how he was able to confirm that Shelly wasn't there?" Lulu asked.

"Yes I've considered that. However, Blowhole set the time of death as 2100 hours, however, by adding certain tire tracks I can prove that a snow cone cart was parked directly next to the body for several hours, cooling the body, so death may have occurred later, say, 1030 or later. I've even placed a watched with the hands smashed at 1030 that Pinkie supposedly landed on, just to make sure."

"we a' saw 'ipper asleep." Rico objected.

"_We _did. We simply say that Skipper returned an hour later, and Private cannot object to this as he was out watching Shakespeare until 1200.".


	3. Planted Evidence vs Planted Evidence

"Great Raincloud city, Julian, don't they see this is a murder? It looks like their all just going through the motions." Private complained. He'd realised he wasn't able to sleep at around two in the morning, and the only person awake at the time was Julian. It had been interesting to watch the sun rise as Julian told old myths about why the Sky Spirits. He'd tried to wake Skipper up as soon as he'd discovered the evidence that could clear Shelly, but he'd merely slapped him across the face and told him not to wake him till morning.

"Well der are two simple-y simple solutions," Julian replied, "dey're either in shock, or they're all… wait for it… lying."

"Dun Dun Duh!" Rico suddenly shouted from behind Private, making him jump.

"Oh now you too!" Private moaned, and was about to walk off in exasperation when Lulu called him back.

"Oh, Private, I'd actually come over to…"

"Sorry for interrupting, but do you have the time?"

"Yes, it's around six." Lulu replied.

"Sorry Lulu, I'd love to talk to you," Private called hurriedly over his shoulder as he rushed off in the direction of the HQ, "but now Skippah's probably awake there's something I have to tell him."

* * *

"Well it would seem all that planning was completely pointless," Kowalski whispered to Lulu, slightly disappointed. He was proud of his fake evidence trail.

"I'm just glad it turned out all right," Lulu replied in equally hushed tones.

"I suppose it is better this way," Kowalski reasoned, "it decreases the chances that we slipped up somehow in planting the evidence in a way that could point back to us."

"…Private, I can hardly believe a member of my team would be capable of such an act," skipper continued to lecture as Private searched through the CDs containing the camera footage. Suddenly Private stopped, looking slightly bewildered, "Well, what is it?"

"I don't understand it, Skippah. It's not here." Private replied.

"What do you mean it's not there?" skipper demanded, "Simian, get up there and read those labels." And so Phil climbed up onto the desk and flipped through the box of disks, then came down shaking his head and signing something to Mason.

"Phil says the footage for every month is there except for last month's," Mason translated, "and unfortunately the murder was committed on the second to last day of the previous month…"

"Well that's just dandy, a smear on the integrity of my men and no way to disprove…"

"There's more," Mason interrupted, "Phil says there's a lot of feathers and claw marks up there. Ostrich feathers, specifically."

"Well Private, it would seem our suspect didn't want you to see the rest of that tape." Skipper concluded.

"But Skipper, this could be another attempt to frame Shelly," Kowalski countered, "And as I believe Lulu tried to tell Private this morning, we've neglected to search the scene of the murder, merely the area where the body was found."

* * *

"Well, I don't like the way the evidence points," Kowalski concluded, a grim expression on his face, "I guess there's only one way to prove it. Skipper, do you mind if I take a cast of your foot to compare with the footprints?" Skipper placed his foot in the mud next to one of the prints. The whole zoo seemed to hold its breath as he removed his foot and… "I'm sorry Skipper, but they're a match."

"Don't you have to find I forget how many points of comparison?" Skipper asked, seemingly not alarmed by the accusation.

"Skipper, it's a penguin's footprint," Kowalski pressed his foot into the mud, the other three penguins doing the same, "Private's are too small, and Rico's and mine are too big."

"Hm… clever boy," Marlene purred.

"Interesting little twist," Skipper replied, smiling somewhat flirtatiously at her. The rest of the zoo residents didn't know quite what to make of the comments.

"Phil says: You do realise we're about to arrest you for murder?" Mason translated, echoing the opinion of much of the group, "and I quite agree with him."

"Yes, you're right," Skipper replied, taking his eyes off Marlene, "anyway, as doll face will tell you, I was with her until half an hour after the murder, then as the team will tell you, I came back and caught some shut eye."

"But the smashed watch and the snow cone cart impressions, remember," Kowalski pointed out, "Also I was up all night in the lab, and you didn't get back to the HQ until 2330. That's over an hour in which to commit a murder and cover your tracks."

"I think you'd all better look at this," Doris called, poking her head over the park side of the wall bordering the habitat, "It looks like some kind of stain on the wall, a kind of brownish red." Immediately the animals rushed over to the wall. Indeed there was the incriminating stain, as well as several ostrich shaped footprints near the base, all wondering how they'd missed it while on Kowalski's guided tour of the habitat's evidence.

* * *

"I'm starting to get the impression somebody in this zoo hates us, or at least Shelly." Kowalski commented. The four murders stood by the edge of the habitat looking on as their plans fell to pieces.

"The way I see it," Mason announced, "at least the only way the evidence seems to fit together, is that Shelly came across Pinkie in the park at 2315. They quarrelled, then Shelly killed him by smashing his head into the wall. She then disposed of the body via the airplanes. However, when Private checked the tapes, she realised that if he continued to go over them it would reveal that she had killed Pinkie."

"Anyway, Private and Shelly were the only ones who knew about the tape until he told us this morning," Skipper added, "and none of us have been out of sight since then. That supposed 'looping' was just a technical glitch."

* * *

"Well Marlene, that little murder mystery idea of yours wasn't half bad." Skipper admitted, gazing at the stars from the lawn in the otter's habitat.

"You wanted an extreme situation training exercise, and I thought they should get a chance to do something a bit more fun than 'drop and give me twenty'," Marlene replied.

"Don't insult my men, Marlene. They get fifty, and that's when I'm in a good mood," Skipper protested, "anyway, they seem to be taking it pretty seriously, you know, keeping in character and all that. You'd almost think ringtail forgot to tell them. Private was so keen to be one of the detectives, he opted out, and made a pretty good show of it."

"I wonder who will win?" Marlene mused, "Will the murders cover their tracks enough for the others not to find out just which ones of them are the murderers, or will the detectives gain enough evidence to be convincing? Genius how Kowalski cemented Shelly's guilt by planting evidence against you, then leaving even more evidence against Shelly to be discovered later. At first I thought you'd set the murder up from the start to frame you."

"I have to say I'm proud of my men. None of them have given up, they've all fought tooth and nail for their side."

* * *

"Well the blood was fake," Kowalski concluded holding up the test tube, "but all the rest of the evidence is so convincing it would make no difference if we told everyone."

"If we knew who was framing Shelly, it would make things a lot easier," Lulu translated for Phil.

"It' kinda believ'ble," Rico added.

"Rico has a point, she did put his girlfriend in the recycling to win his heart, and her motive for killing Pinkie was that he was planning to blackmail you," Lulu considered, "and we know she was outside the zoo taking a walk at 2315, Roy and Joey saw her."

"Lulu, you distracted Pinkie while Rico knocked him out," Kowalski interrupted, "It's no mystery to you what happened."

"If only the body had stayed where we left it it would have been an accident and it all would have been fine."

"Eureka!" Kowalski exclaimed, "thank you Lulu, I know exactly what's going on!" However their celebration was short lived as a scream rang out across the zoo.

Immediately the four special team members were out of the lab, racing past Skipper and into Marlene's habitat from which the scream came. Lying on the floor in the centre of the room was Marlene, blood pooling around her. Shelly stood in the corner sobbing. It had been her who'd screamed. Immediately Kowalski leant down, checking her pulse.

"Kowalski, report!" skipper ordered frantically.

"She's…" Kowalski could barely believe what he was saying, "She's dead."


	4. Skipper's Interpretation

"It would seem the killer killed again," Mason commented looking down at the scene. Marlene lay sprawled on the ground, stabbed in the chest, one of her paws caught under the manhole to the sewers, the other clutching a knife with a tiny smear of blood on it. The body was surrounded by a sea of smashed white china.

"What do you mean?" Shelly sobbed in the corner, "Who killed her?"

"Cut the cryin' school girl act, precious," Skipper snapped, "he's talkin' about you. You had your prints all over the last crime and you just happen to be right here..."

"Shelly's innocent." Kowalski interrupted.

"Oh, make it all go away!" Shelly sobbed.

"Yes, make it all go away. That was exactly what you thought when you found the body, as well as the missing dart that killed him, that made you think it was Rico that had killed him," Kowalski explained, "So you 'made it all go away' by tying his body to a plane and hoping it would crash somewhere in the river. You miscalculated the fuel."

"No! I did it, I killed Pinkie!" Shelly protested.

"You found something at that crime scene that made you think that if you didn't take the blame, Rico would," Kowalski argued, getting dangerously close to exposing himself, "you decided to dispose of the body yourself, leaving lots and lots of evidence along the way, because you couldn't just confess, no that would make it too obvious it was a set up."

"You can't prove that!" Shelly continued to protest.

"Yes I can. What did you find at that crime scene, Shelly?" Kowalski demanded, despite the less than comfortable looks coming from his own camp, "was it a small dart in the back of his neck?"

"No!"

"A toxicologist's report will tell us Pinkie was drugged before he died," Kowalski continued, "do you know how to use a blow pipe?"

"Yes!"

"I highly doubt it."

"Why would I frame myself?!"

"Dame's got a point." Skipper concurred.

"Because you were the only one who could have stolen the tapes, remember? Private, the rest of the team, Lulu, Phil, Mason, Doris, and you were the only ones who knew about the tape, and everyone but you never left the group."

"I…" It was obvious Shelly was beaten.

"You've outsmarted yourself, Shelly," Kowalski concluded to the obvious relief of his co-conspirators who were beginning to wonder if _he_ was a security risk, "Checkmate."

* * *

The zoo residents started to exit the habitat, the show over. However, Kowalski pulled Skipper aside.

"Stop going after the girl, Skipper," Kowalski demanded, "you know very well she's been innocent the whole time, and all it could have taken was one word from you and she wouldn't have had to go through all this."

"It's every man for himself, Kowalski," Skipper snapped, "When you accepted this mission I made it quite clear that if you are caught, for the safety of the zoo, I will have to deny all knowledge of this."

"I didn't think it would go this far!"

"You knew all too well it could go this far and worse. I explained that to all of you."

"But the least you could do is to remain neutral."

"Kowalski, I look after my own. The zoo folks want a conviction, and it's not going to be you," Skipper glared at Kowalski just for good measure, "I hope my position is clear now, and hopefully yours too."

"As crystal." The two penguins parted directions.

"What did he say?" Lulu asked.

"He's not going to be any help," Kowalski replied, " He's probably come to the same conclusion I have: the killer has to be one of us, I can hardly believe it but it's the only way that makes sense. The only possible motive was that Marlene was killed to stop her from showing someone the dart, which would trace directly back to us if inspected properly. And Skipper doesn't even seem to care."

"Maybe it's his own way of grieving."

"No, if he was grieving we'd be picking up pieces of the HQ," Kowalski replied.

"Anyway, that's the least of our worries." Lulu commented.

"What?"

"getting' oo close." Rico elaborated.

"I hate to bring this up again, but…" Kowalski looked down at his clipboard uncomfortably, "It's only a matter of time until they find something, and well, if one person was to bear the brunt of the charges. For want of a euphemism, a scapegoat. Just in case things go wrong."

"We've talked about framing someone," Lulu protested, "it's not right."

"But if it's one of us then we aren't harming an innocent," Kowalski argued, "If it all goes wrong we have the choice of one of us going down, or all of us." The room fell silent, divided on their opinions on the argument.

"ee vote. A' for." Rico raised his hand, as well as Bing, "a' agains'." Lulu and Phil raised their hands.

"What about you Kowalski?" Lulu asked.

"I'm not sure," Kowalski replied, "I'm leaning a little to Rico's side, but I won't support something like this unless it's unanimous. I guess we'll think on it."

* * *

The habitat seemed cold and dark without Marlene's presence, like the warm fire you were toasting marshmallows on had been blown out by a sudden gust of cold air. The stains were still on the floor though the body had long since been removed for autopsy, looking like a smeared attempt to paint a flower. Skipper was stood alongside the area in which almost all the evidence was laid out, untouched since the crime, save the body. His brow was furrowed as if he'd just been outmanoeuvred by a cleaver opponent, and was struggling to get back on his feet.

"Glad you could make it, doll," Skipper commented, not looking up from the evidence. Kitka stood in the doorway of the habitat, casting dark shadow in the room, and making the colours in the room several tones darker. Her bright orange feathers looked dark and mysterious in their shadowed forms, as shadowy and mysterious as the mystery itself.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," Kitka replied. The right side of her beak curled slightly in a surly smile, "So what's the theory?"

"The way I see it," Skipper stood up, walking over to the cooking surface, where the oyster shells from the night before still sat on the counter, "she was killed a few minutes after I left. Come to think of it, she seemed kind of nervous that evening. Asked me to stay. Well obviously I didn't think we were that close yet, and I had to be up early for the team's inspection. I turned her down." Skipper's eyes drifted to the knife on the floor. Kitka moved from the doorway, allowing the morning sunlight to enter, illuminating the darkened room. She walked towards Skipper her eyes following his to the work surface before he abruptly moved them else ware.

"Who do you think the killer was?" she asked, turning away from the man, and glancing quickly over the room itself.

"I dunno, yet," Skipper replied shortly.

"Do you know why?"

"I got some ideas," Skipper replied, "So far, we've got a basic idea of what happened," Skipper stood in front of the oysters, as if he was preparing them, "There was a knife right there, the one she had in her paw," Skipper pointed to an area on the work surface. There was a narrow scratch like the end of a plate on a map, "Whoever it was, she knew they were comin', but she didn't get a hit in."

"How can you tell?"

"I cut myself helping her with dinner," Skipper pointed to the smear of blood the drew a thin red inch long line along the edge of the blade, "If she'd gotten the attacker my blood wouldn't still be there," Skipper walked over to the other side of the room, standing in the entrance to the cave, "the killer stood here," Skipper began to walk into the room, towards where Kitka was stood by the oyster shells. He moved his wing as if reaching into a pocket, then replaced the hand by his side, but shaped as if he was holding a knife, "the knife Marlene had wasn't the murder weapon," Skipper stopped only a few inches away from Kitka, "Marlene had her back to 'im, but she turned around at the last minute."

"But the struggle took place by the dishes. We're a good couple of feet away from there," Kitka asked, her eyes ghosting over the work surfaces as if she'd missed something, "I don't get any of this."

"I'll show ya, then. Grab one of the knives from the drawer, precious." Skipper ordered. Kitka hesitated, her wing half way to the drawer.

"Are you sure, Skips?" she asked. At this a half smile crept on to Skipper's face. It was the confident smirk he was well known for.

"Don't worry, doll, you won't hurt me," Skipper replied. Kitka opened the drawer, and selected a bread knife with a black handle, the closest one to the knife on the floor. The blade glinted in the sunlight as she returned to her previous position in front of Skipper, "now turn around like you're clearin' away those oysters," Kitka obeyed her orders, "now let's say I'm the killer. You realise I'm here, and you know it's gonna be you or me. You grab the knife, an' try and stick me with it."

"Alright…" Kitka turned around like lightning, the knife in her wing, her feathers a blur of orange and red. She used a diagonal swipe trying to catch Skipper on the side of the neck. Skipper took a half step back at the same time as his right wing moved from his side, catching her wing and twisting the knife away from him. He moved his left arm, circling the back of her neck and catching her in a lock. Kitka let out a soft moan of pain like a kitten mewing for its mother, "my wing…" Skipper loosened his grip, though he did not entirely release her.

"Now if I kept pulling I'd break your wing," Skipper explained, "'course I ain't, but that explains Marlene's fractured arm. Now, get yourself out. Remember, your arm hurts like heck, but you're fighting for your life."

"One question, Skipps. There's no way to get out of this unless you know how."

"She knew how, doll. I gave her a few lessons," Kitka moved her left leg as if to kick Skipper in the knee cap, "whoa, not so fast. We don't want to smash the evidence. I'll let you go and you tell me how." Skipper released his hold on the falcon. Immediately she began to rub the wing still holding the knife, cradling it like a baby.

"I would have distracted you with a kick to the knee, then used my other arm to throw you over my shoulder." Kitka replied. Her discontent at having had her discomfort extended was written all over her face.

"And I would have landed about there," Skipper pointed to the counter, "bang on the pile of dishes left over from dinner."

"Instant smashed china." Kitka extrapolated.

"Now, the killer sees her run towards the door, and judging by the angle of the wound, he throws the knife, catching her just as she turns around to see he's not followin'," Skipper explained, "she ain't dead yet, but the killer knows she's gonna be in a few minutes. He pulls his knife out and searches the room, startin' by the door so she doesn't get no ideas about cryin' out."

"So the only other exit is…"

"The manhole," Skipper finished, "and there's the scene: she's grippin' the knife for dear life 'cause it's all she's got, and desperately tryin' to get the manhole open."

* * *

The wall dividing the zoo and the park was almost pitch black, like a dark, sinister ally. The light from the lamps in the park couldn't reach the corners shadowed by the wall leaving them an eerie quality not shared by any other parts of the zoo. The falcon and the penguin walked alongside the wall in the shadows, the beam of Skipper's electric torch cutting through the black.

"What are you looking for Skips?" Kitka asked.

"I dunno," he replied, his voice as dark and ambiguous as the sinister corner of the zoo in which they walked, "maybe somethin' maybe nothin'. Won't know till I find it, but if I do it might just clear up this whole case."

"I still don't get it. Why kill Marlene? Why not Shelly?"

"Shelly was boarding with her while her habitat got fixed up," Skipper answered, "Shelly was too hung up framing herself to get ideas, but if she'd discovered somethin' and Marlene found out, Marlene had the smarts to put two and two together."

"So she was killed to keep her from talkin'? Why didn't she just tell you when you were there?"

"I dunno. Maybe she wanted to lure the killer out, curiosity killed the cat and all that. Maybe she knew her number was up and didn't want it to be mine too. Who knows."

"Skipps, it frightens me that… Skipps?" the amateur detective seemed alert, doing nothing out of the ordinary, but alert.

"Don't look back now, doll, but we got ourselves a tail," Skipper hissed, "I'm gonna try and lose 'im," Skipper quickened his pace, Kitka matching him. In the reflection in the glass like pond, Skipper could see the shadow had quickened their pace too. He then whispered to Kitka: "there's a couple a' boards stacked up against the wall 'round the next corner. When I say so, we duck behind them and don't make a peep. Got it?"

"Sure Skips."

As the two jogged around the corner, Skipper suddenly pulled Kitka into the shadows cast by the pile of timber leaning against the wall like a small Wendy house. They stood there, completely silent, listening as the footsteps of the shadow, matching their previous pace, approached. On the background of the traffic the footsteps sounded like a train approaching a deserted platform. Finally the unknown person rounded the corner. Skipper leapt from the shadows, tackling the person to the ground. Immediately he removed his torch from his pocket and shone it on the face of the follower. Recognising the face, he stood up, offering a wing to the person on the ground.

"Didn't recognise you," Skipper apologised, "Don't you think it's a little early to be back here?"

Kitka couldn't hear much of the conversation. She wasn't able to see Skipper's mysterious friend either. A trench coat and hat, most of it dragging on the ground concealed the wearer's identity. However, Kitka had to say it looked a lot like the outfit the penguins used to pay the pizza boy. Finally Skipper walked back to the falcon, the mysterious visitor melting into the shadows like a burning photograph.

"Alright, from now on I'm going solo."

"I flew all the way…"

"Sorry doll, that's the way it is," And with that Skipper followed the stranger into the darkness, "I'll meet you back at the HQ in an hour.

**So far I think I've given you almost all the clues to solve the mystery. The first one didn't really count because it was faked as part of the murder mystery game. I've gone a bit OOC with the characters but I can justify that as in future chapters many of them will be attempting to imitate their favourite detectives. The second half of this chapter was my very bad attempt to write hard boiled detective style.**


	5. The Clue in the Lying Letter

"Hypers, Darla, you scared me!" Doris exclaimed. The blue eyed dolphin had driven backwards a few steps in fright after her chum had startled her. The four girls were in the midst of their own investigation into Marlene's sinister demise, and had been perusing the various exhibits of evidence throughout the darkened cave, "Don't sneak up on me like that again."

"Such a dreadful scene," Carol grimaced, "no wonder we're all on edge."

"We've gone over the whole thing dozens of times," Doris stated, "I don't think we'll find much more."

"I have to say, the blood on the knife clinches if for me," Jillian spoke, "I don't buy Skipper's excuse that he cut himself making dinner. How can you cut yourself on the upper wing slicing fish?"

"But that would be just the place you'd expect a cut if Marlene was defending herself with that knife and Skipper dodged a little late." Darla concurred.

"No need to try to convince me of my own theory, girls," the girl detective chuckled, "It's pretty obvious it was a crime of passion."

"Ah yes," Carol swooned, "the reason behind sudden invitation a romantic candle lit dinner is revealed as Marlene professes that she plans to leave him, that her heart belongs to another. Skipper flies into a rage and…"

"Alright, Carol, that's enough romance land," Darla chided before the baboon could go too far into the world of melodrama and romance, "I guess we should speak to Skipper before we submit our conclusion."

* * *

"It's been over two hours and I haven't heard a thing," Kitka fretted. The dolphin was worriedly pacing the floor of the HQ wringing her wings in distress, "He said he'd meet me here and he never turned up."

"Cheer up, Kitka," Doris comforted, "He probably found something and wanted to investigate."

"I'm just so worried something happened to him. Nobody has seen him since he walked off in the park."

"He didn't leave you anything to tell you where he went?" Darla enquired.

"He left a note," Kitka reached across the table, retrieving a folded piece of paper. She promptly unfolded it and handed it to Doris.

"Well that should explain things," Jillian concluded, glancing over the pictures, "He says something came up and he'll be out of town of a few days, and that you shouldn't look for him."

"It seems strange though," The attractive falcon continued. She stood up, walking over to the oversized notepad on which the team's missions were often explained. She flipped through the pages until she found the one that suited the purpose, "Skipper drew this diagram only a few days before, yet the style of the pictograms bears little resemblance."

"She's right, Doris." Darla told her chum as she compared the delicate, shaky lines of the note to the strong precise outlines in the mission plan.

"Oh poor Skippah," Private exclaimed, "We must find him, Kowalski."

"I'll organise a search party presently," Kowalski concurred, scrambling out of the HQ, followed but a few seconds after by Private.

"Well aren't you going to help, Doris?" Darla asked.

"No," Doris replied, "I'm not so certain harm has befallen him."

"What do you mean?!" Carol enquired.

"It all works too well," Doris replied, "except for a few facts. Firstly, I can't imagine a single person Skipper would know and trust who could restrain him, never mind have motive to do so."

"It could have been your brother or Hans," Darla countered, "How do you know it was someone he trusted?"

"Kitka said he walked off willingly after recognising the person. He hasn't been seen by anyone since," Doris corrected her chum, "And also there's the business of that letter. I've seen Skipper suspended over a pit of boiling lava and he wasn't the slightest bit alarmed. I can't see how anything would threaten him enough that his wing would shake as he wrote."

"But why would he want everyone to think he'd been abducted?"

"So he wouldn't be considered a suspect in the murder," Doris announced grimly, "I doubt we'll be able to chase everyone down to tell them, though, they were in such a hurry."

"Well I guess it's up to us, then."

* * *

"Say, Doris, do you think these are Skipper's?" Darla asked, looking down at the webbed imprints in the ground. They were in the spot outside the wall skipper had last been seen at, though it didn't look quite so foreboding in broad daylight.

"No, those are too small to belong to Skipper," Doris replied, "I'd hazard a guess that they belong to one of the little ducklings by the lake."

"Oh look, I've found some!" Carol announced, bending over another trail of prints.

"Those look about right," Doris concluded, and was about to set off in the direction the prints took when her attention was drawn away by another call.

"I've found another set," Kitka announced.

"Me too." Darla called.

"We've certainly have gotten ourselves into quite the pickle." Carol concluded.

"Right then, we'll split up. You and Kitka can take the trail to the right," Doris organised, "Darla and Jillian can take the trail to the left and I'll take the centre."

"But Doris, what if you catch up to Skipper?" Jillian asked, "You'll be on your own."

"I've watched my brother enough times," Doris answered confidently, "I know what I'm doing." However, catching up with Skipper would not be the stumbling block that delayed the investigation the most, as Doris would later see.

* * *

The tursiops truncatus detective had dutifully followed the trail across over half the park when the first drops started to fall. In almost no time at all the rain poured in torrents as if a gigantic bucket had emptied on her head. Doris could see the prints washing away before her eyes.

"I'd be foolish to keep this up," she muttered to herself, severely disappointed. However, there was nothing that could be done about the situation, and she knew if she kept going her wheels would only get bogged down in the mud, so Doris had no choice but to drive for shelter under a nearby tree.

"Hi," Fred stated, looking down from the tree branch at the dolphin, "Nasty weather."

"It's not exactly my day," Doris replied somewhat dejectedly.

"Too bad." Fred replied. Noticing the sound of a nearby ringing phone, Fred excused himself: "I think that might be for me."

"How do you know it's for you?" Doris asked. She'd never seen a squirrel take a phone call.

"I don't really know," Fred replied blankly. The squirrel, though it took a decent mount of mental and physical effort, managed to answer the payphone just in time, and stood with his ear to the receiver which was now hanging down almost to the ground by its cord, "Hello?" He stood for a few seconds listening before adopting a scowl and walking away, "Stupid machines!"

"Stupid machines?" Doris queried.

"Oh, do you like my new line?" Fred replied, "I say it every time I get a call now. I kinda stole it from my cousin. He says it all the time when he answers anything."

"Who was it?"

"Oh, just Skipper," Fred replied, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, "He said to tell Kowalski he needs some kind of do hicky because of someone called Marlene, and that I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it," Then Fred's expression morphed to one of confusion, "But then how am I supposed to tell what's his name to get the ice thingy?"

However, Doris' attention had wandered elsewhere, as she had picked up the phone still hanging by its cord, "Hello?"

"_Fred? You sound strange_?" A woman's voice, vaguely familiar, though Doris couldn't quite place it, answered.

"Oh, I'm not Fred. I'm a friend of Fred's though," Doris lied, "He told me to give Skipper a message."

"_Alright, give me a second to get a pen and paper_," the woman replied.

"No, I need to give this Skipper personally."

"I'm sorry, you just missed him. He's gone off on a fishing trip for the day. Can I take a message for him?"

"Do you know where he is?" Doris asked, "It's confidential, but it's essential he gets the message soon."

"I'm sorry, it's against the rules to give away our location," the woman replied, then as if finding her voice just as familiar, yet unidentifiable asked: "Who are you?"

"Um… Drew," Doris stammered, "Bess Drew. I think my time's almost up. Nice talkin' to you."


	6. The Adventure of the Murder's Flower

**_9.00 am_**

_Maurice climbed off the bouncy and started to walk towards the 'smoothie maker'. As much as he hated it, getting up this early was his only option if he was going to be able to procure all the fruits necessary to give his king the variety of choice he demanded. However, when he started his daily inspection of the smoothie maker (one of them had exploded once, and he __**did not**__ want that to happen again) he noticed through the clear plastic that Mort was the only occupant of the bouncy. _

_He looked around the blender only to have the same fact confirmed. Immediately his eyes swept the rest of the habitat, until they fell on Julian, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully on the recliner. However, on closer inspection, Maurice noticed a smoothie, filled almost to the brim of the cup in the king's hand. There was no way either Julian or Mort could make a smoothie, or that either of them would be up early enough to do it. Finding this suspicious, Maurice decided to take the risk of attempting to shake Julian awake. His skin was oddly cold to the touch._

_It was then to Maurice's horror he realized that Julian had made good on his threats of the previous night, despite Maurice's warnings about interfering with the penguins. He immediately copied Kowalski's movements, checking his king's pulse, only to find there was none._

_"__Oh wonderful," Maurice muttered. He could tell this wasn't going to end well, "Barry got to him."_

* * *

Nigel sat on one of the upper branches of the tree, along with several tea cups filled with unnamed brews that a million dollars wouldn't entice me to drink, his eyes focused like a laser on the closest of these. I had just returned from a brisk walk down to the crime scene and back, though I now wished I hadn't – the unearthly bright red bloodstain that still remained on the floor was one I doubted would ever leave my mind – and I was settling down with a cup of coffee, when Nigel spoke.

"Throwing poo at Kowalski's girlfriend is not a course of action I would recommend." said Nigel, a half smile of slight amusement on his beak.

"How on earth did you know what I was thinking?" I gasped, blushing slightly out of embarrassment. I had to admit I was astonished by the remark. Nigel had been buried in his teacups since we visited the crime scene the day before, and he had yet to meet Kowalski's girlfriend, who had, much to my annoyance, took the liberty of inviting herself to our murder mystery.

"What if I told you I worked it out by the poorly patched incision on your lower jaw?"

"Then I would reply that you must have the ability to read minds." I answered. At this, Nigel tipped back in such a manner that I feared he would topple from his perch on the tree, roaring with laughter.

"To which I am replying that I have no such gifts."

"Well don't keep me in the dark." I prompted, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Very well," Nigel replied, "I will furnish you with some more clues: 1) you left the habitat for your early morning walk; however, instead of going empty handed as usual, you took with you your magnifying glass, which you have only ever taken to one place which was Marlene's crime scene. 2) The cut on your face is roughly the same distance from your hand, if the arm was raised at an angle of 100 degrees, as the length of the bread knife in Marlene's paw. 3) The theory which Doris has circulated widely, yes Mason, even from my isolated location up in this tree the news reached me, has two obvious flaws, the one you would probably find most irksome would be her doubt as to Skipper's excuse for the cut on his wing. 4) Knowing the ferocity with which Doris will defend her views, which Kowalski often makes a point of mentioning, would undoubtedly push you to the point at which you would prove your theory physically. Thus you picked up the knife and attempted to mimic the way the penguins cut their fish, only, when you lost control of the knife, you managed to slice yourself in a different location. 5) This would obviously leave you quite humiliated, and the most obvious method of revenge is to throw poo at her."

"That does seem quite logical," I replied, humbled by the simplicity of the chain of events which had seemed so mysterious until but a few seconds ago.

"Uncle Nigel?" a familiar voice called as Private scrambled over the fence and into the habitat, "There's been another murder. It's Julian."

"Kowalski undoubtedly wants our help," Nigel replied, his face suddenly alive, "Well get your magnifying glass, Mason."

* * *

"This is getting worse by the minute!" Lulu fretted, "What if they trace this back to us?"

"How could they?" Kowalski replied, "It wasn't us."

"But… I don't know," Lulu kicked a pebble out of her path in annoyance, watching as it skittered across the pavement, "I just feel like at any moment they'll find something, and now that Private's uncle is on the case…"

"Don't worry, Lulu," Kowalski replied, "I think I'll be able to make an arrangement with Nigel to make sure I'm the first one to get the facts, and the one who gets to tell the story the way we want it told."

"You aren't going to…" Lulu gasped, blanching dramatically. There was no way Nigel was going to join the growing tally of bodies sent to Blowhole for autopsy.

"Lulu, I can't believe you even considered I'd do something like that," Kowalski replied, and then sighting Private, rounding the bend in the path, "That's them now," Immediately Kowalski walked forward to intercept them, "What are you doing here, Nigel?"

"I've been informed by your nephew there has been a murder." Replied Nigel.

"And the team has it under control." Kowalski responded curtly.

"But K'walski, you said you were completely baffled?" Private asked, looking baffled himself by the statement.

"Now look here, I've got a job to keep up," Kowalski hissed, lowering his voice so only those in the immediate vicinity, namely myself and Nigel could hear, "Regardless of whether Skipper is out of town or not."

"I assure you, Kowalski," Nigel answered, "the headlines will all read that Skipper's brilliant 'options guy' was the genius behind the solution of the case."

"Just make sure everything goes through me," Kowalski replied warily, starting towards the entrance of the lemur habitat, "Well, you'd better take a look at the scene."

As soon as we reached the scene, Nigel's brow furrowed. The victim, Julian, was lying on the recliner atop the rock in the center of the habitat. There was nothing amiss, in fact, he looked so peaceful, you would think he was merely asleep. There was even a smoothie, undisturbed, in his hand.

"None of this is right…" Nigel muttered, and I must confess, the comment had me puzzled. As far as I was aware, it was one of Nigel's own axioms that one should never attempt to consider theories prior to adequate facts, "The cause of death?"

"Poisoned, according to Doris' brother," Kowalski replied, "However, he was very quick to make the diagnosis after the results of only a few tests done by Doris on his instructions."

"And you conclusion?"

"I haven't been allowed to do more than check the pulse, as per Skipper's orders," Kowalski replied.

"In the drink?"

"No, there's something weird in there, but it's not deadly. Doris whisked my sample off to her brother's lab before I could run any more tests."

Nigel approached the body, circling it, making measurements with a small tape measure, all the time that unusual puzzled expression on his face. He climbed up to the top of a nearby tree and looked down, and then climbed to the top of the throne on the opposite side. Finally, he looked at the back of the scene from the top of the habitat wall, before returning to the body.

"May I borrow your magnifying glass, Mason?" he asked.

"Certainly." I replied, handing him the desired object. Immediately Nigel began to inspect the cup with it, found nothing and moved on to the recliner, then examined Julian himself, especially his feet.

"Were there any patterns?" asked Nigel, "anything shaped vaguely like the outline of a rose?"

"No, everything's just how Maurice found it," Kowalski replied.

"Was there anything belonging to someone other than Julian?" Nigel asked with unusual intensity, "anything resembling someone other than Julian?"

"The only kind of picture we found was an oil painting of Julian." Kowalski replied, "Why?"

"Oh, nothing Kowalski," Nigel answered tensely, "You can move the body now. Come Mason, we've done all we can."

* * *

"Why were you looking for roses or something belonging to or resembling someone other than Julian?" I asked, breaking Nigel out of his moody contemplation, which had absorbed him for the rest of the morning and half way into the afternoon.

"So far there are three consistencies at all the crime scenes: The victims were murdered in their homes, the pattern of a flower when seen from above, and something belonging to or resembling the next victim which denotes the next," Nigel replied, "With Pinkie, the remains of the plane, when I looked down from a nearby tree resembled the outline of a rose, and amongst the carnage I found a sketch of Marlene. With Marlene, the shattered crockery and bric-a-brac, supposedly displaced in a search of the habitat, though none of the objects broken were known to belong to Marlene, was once again in roughly the same shape, and the blood on the knife belonged to Skipper. However, Skipper was not killed, and none of these factors were present in proximity to Julian's body."

"But, Nigel, how do you know it was the same killer?" I asked, still confused.

"The time, Mason, the time," Nigel answered irritably, "Pinkie was killed at the time he was so Fred would discover him at 9.30 in the morning when he woke up and looked out of the tree, as was his habit. Marlene's death was timed so Shelly would find her body at 9.30 in the evening. Julian was found dead at 9.30 in the morning, exactly the time Maurice is known to wake up and start to prepare Julian's breakfast at, and the killer would have been able to assume that Maurice would find Julian's position, and the fact he was not asleep on the bouncy, suspicious the moment he awoke," Nigel's eyes left myself, instead looking straight ahead out at the skyscrapers of the city, "We're running out of time, Mason. If the killer keeps to his timing pattern, the next murder will be in a few hours," Suddenly Nigel's focus sharpened, "Timed perfectly for the team's evening briefing…" Suddenly Nigel leapt from his seat, charging out of the habitat, "The team had to be out of the HQ during the day. That's it, Mason!"

"Nigel?" I still hadn't the foggiest idea of what seemed to random words sprouting from Nigel's beak.

"I suggest you take your fling-able poo, Mason." And at this I knew there was a high probability we would meet the killer this very afternoon, for I was never instructed to bring poo to fling on a case unless there was a decent chance we were to see action.

We raced as fast as our legs would carry us and as I was only just catching my breath when we vaulted the railing of the penguin habitat and climbed to the floe in the middle. However, when Nigel saw Kowalski stood just outside the fishbowl entrance, our pace slowed, and he stopped directly in front of the grief stricken scientist.

"We just found him…"

"Frozen solid in a block of ice?" Nigel asked.

"How did you…?" Kowalski puzzled.

"I was wrong about the pattern," Nigel replied, "If only I'd realized Julian's murder didn't fit the pattern because it was just a ploy to get you out of the HQ so Skipper could be returned to his 'home' to be murdered, I might have prevented this."

"But how did you know about the ice?" Kowalski asked.

"I was following the wrong pattern, distracted by a pattern I saw that didn't really exist," Nigel replied, the guilt evident in his voice, "The flowers were just circumstantial, the real pattern was the killer's obsession with irony."

"What?"

"A bird falls from the sky to his death," Nigel recounted, though more to himself than to the scientist at this point, "an amateur interior designer is found in the midst of a mess, even with Julian the killer kept to this pattern as the ever moving lemur was found tranquil, and the leader who always believed he would go down fighting in the heat of battle, was found frozen in a block of ice."

"Extraordinary." Kowalski muttered.

"And for all this I am no closer to finding the killer."

**Ok, at this point you probably hate me, and as much as I was tempted to run screaming from my word processor and lock this chapter away in some obscure folder, I've dared to post the chapter. However, if you think I'm getting even remotely close to an extremely tragic ending (I'm pretty sure the ending will not be tragic in any way) I still have a lot of tricks up my sleeve (Hint: I was inspired by a Young Justice episode).**

**If you're getting confused by the multiple interpretations of the facts, hopefully this will be sorted out in the next two chapters.**


	7. The Drawing Room Conclusion

**This chapter is pretty much a recap of what's already happened, hopefully to make things a little less confusing. **

"I've gathered you all here today, because one of you is responsible for the four heinous crimes that have shocked the zoo," Doris announced. Everyone was gathered in the zoovenire shop as per Doris' request, "The first murder, was committed by Skipper. He was the only one who'd have access to the weapons necessary to carry out the crime without the rest of the team knowing. He was also furious at Pinkie for having stolen their fish and replaced them with fishcakes. If you've never gone two weeks without adequate food, then you'll obviously have no idea how much you'd hate the person who put you in that situation, but it's a lot. Not enough to kill, but then I always had doubts about that particular penguin's sanity. I should know, I was his…"

"Can we move on to the second murder now?" Roy asked irritably.

"It was a crime of passion," Doris explained, "Skipper was the last person to see her alive. They were having dinner together; it was only natural that she'd start the washing up afterwards. Of course they'd continue to talk, and if would be easier for her to tell him she was in love with another when she didn't have to make eye contact. Skipper gets angry. Marlene tries to protect herself. Well, we all know that if she had a flamethrower handy it would still be no match for Skipper."

"But what about the manhole?" Mason asked. Nigel had to return to England for business reasons, but Mason knew his methods.

"Skipper was blocking the only other way out, and if Skipper was there, then the others would be at the HQ."

"But Skipper would have gotten back by the time she crawled through the sewers getting her wound infected?"

"Yes, but if he was going to protect his alibi, he'd have to pretend to help stabilise her and try again before she could talk. All she'd have to do is keep Rico."

"Doris," Kowalski commented, earning him a scowl, "they were never officially an item."

"Couldn't you feel the romance in the air?" Darla swooned. Kowalski and Rico looked at each other and shrugged.

"Not really." The scientist replied.

"Boys." The baboons muttered.

"Anyway," Kowalski continued, "why would Marlene break up with him even if they were a couple?"

"I was wondering when someone was going to ask that," Doris grinned, "Anyone notice how much time Private had been spending around Marlene?"

"She was helping me out with my cross stich," Private defended, "Skippah didn't like me having needles in the HQ."

"Hmph," Doris scoffed, "a likely story. Well, Marlene hadn't wanted to tell Skipper her heart belonged to someone else until she found the dart. Of course she put two and two together, and realised it was Skipper. That was the final straw, but being the kind, sensitive woman everyone has said she was, I only saw her from a distance I never actually spoke to her, she tried to tell Skipper gently, which was her fatal mistake. I can further prove my theory by pointing out Blowhole's latest statement that injuries sustained by Marlene were consistent with those of a skilled fighter, like Skipper.

"Now, you are doubtlessly wondering just how Skipper ended up dead. It's quite simple. If somebody killed the love of your life, and you knew quite obviously who it was because only a few hours before Marlene had told you she was finally going to tell skipper the truth, what would you do? Well if you're also thinking 'there was no way young, naïve private could do that', remember what that same 'young, naïve Private' was capable of under the effects of the love-u-laser, yes Kowalski, I know all about that, which would be about half the level of hatred Private would be feeling after Marlene's death. Now, as Skipper didn't know Private knew, when Private walked up to him in the park and asked him if they could speak in, he followed. Now, caught completely off guard, Private would be able to knock Skipper out and restrain him in some separate location as there were still questions he needed answers to before he could end him.

"The phone call Fred received in the park said Skipper requested a freeze ray, and strangely enough, Skipper was killed by one. Now, the voice on the phone was a woman's voice I didn't recognise, which would mean, within the zoo, it could only be one of five people: Marlene, Rhonda, Stacy, Becky, and Miss Perky. Marlene is dead, Rhonda is with my brother, Stacy and Becky would be glad to see Marlene dead, and Miss Perky can only say set phrases."

"You do realise you've just ruled out all your own suspects?" Mason commented dryly.

"I know. So it had to be someone outside the zoo. But who? What about Private's ex, Cupid? Now, if Private asked Cupid to request Kowalski's freeze ray pretending it was for Skipper, it would be far less suspicious than if Private requested it himself or tried to steal it."

"But why would Skipper or Private kill Julian?" Kowalski asked.

"Simple. They didn't. They couldn't of, Private was busy watching his prisoner, and Skipper was, well, the prisoner being watched. The only other person who could have motive to kill Julian was Maurice."

"One minute, young lady," Mason objected, standing up and walking to the front of the group, "there are a few flaws in this story: Cupid has a distinct Russian accent. You'd recognise it, yet if as you say the voice could have belonged to anyone from Rhonda to Marlene, then the speaker couldn't have been her."

"She could have changed her voice."

"Unlikely. Alright, answer this: how could Private be guarding his prisoner if he was seen walking about the zoo?"

"Well he had to take a break some time." Doris replied.

"See how flimsy her theory is?" Mason announced, "Pure guess work and evenings reading bad romance novels. "Now to me, it all seems rather premeditated. I personally think they're some sort of psychopathic killer on the loose. That one of us snapped and…"

"Absolutely ridiculous," Burt objected.

"What do you think Doris, being an expert on the subject?" Mason asked.

"Not funny, Mason," Doris countered, "My brother is just slightly misguided."

"He wants to destroy the sun and by extension all life on earth."

"That's just a rumour."

"Anyway, the killer's pattern as my esteemed colleague Nigel may have told you is to kill the victim in the method opposite to their personality. Now, the victims were not chosen at random, not at all. Pinkie was a less than trustworthy member of the community; Skipper was the zoo's self-proclaimed law enforcement. Julian was, and I hate to speak ill of the dead, a nuisance, and Marlene was the quintessence of the good citizen. The murder was also planning several steps ahead. In Marlene's habitat Skipper's blood was on the knife, skipper was the next victim. In Pinkie's death, a sketch of Marlene was found amongst the debris."

"Well of course there was a sketch of Marlene," Doris interrupted, "It was skipper's plane. He probably drew it while he was waiting for refuelling to finish."

"Anyhow, I have had psychological profiles drawn up by Dr Blowhole, and the one most likely to snap, would be Private. The effort to be good all the time, as well as the stress from his severe break up with Shauna, in which he was so desperate to keep their relationship together he resorted to purposely inflicting horrific injuries on himself."

"Mason, Doris, both your theories are completely ridiculous," Kowalski objected, "Private would never do such a thing."

"I, um…" Private tried to add.

"Furthermore, I doubt that testimony by someone actively trying to destroy this team, which incriminates a member of the team, should be taken seriously…"

"Um, K'walski, I have a theory."

"Sorry Private," Kowalski motioned with a wing for the nervous boy to take centre stage, "Please explain your theory."

"Well, I agreed with what Skipper was saying before he disappeared," Private announced, slowly warming to being in front of an audience, "I think that somebody killed Pinkie as a personal revenge, possibly due to the fish. Then, after Marlene found the dart, she figured out who the killer was. Marlene confronted the killer, and she had to be killed to keep her from talking. Then, when Skipper started to get onto the right trail, he had to be killed before he announced whatever he found."

"What about Julian?" Doris asked.

"Julian was always popping in and out of the HQ raiding our fridge. He might have found some of Skipper's notes."

"That does sound convincing," Lulu whispered.

"Pretty close to my theory," Kowalski replied in equally hushed tones, watching as the three detectives argued over trivial details, Private looking more and more uncomfortable.

"So what do you think?"

"I fear revenge was Skipper's motive for ordering us to kill Pinkie," Kowalski answered, "I agree with Private about the motive for the second murder: the killer, or as we had learned from Shelly, someone close to the killer had to shut her up."

"What about Skipper?"

"He was the only one who would be able to confirm we were acting under his orders, even though he said he wouldn't. He'd also know if one of us went off reservation and killed his girlfriend, who it was. So he had to go."

"But why would they want to prevent Skipper from saying we were acting under orders?"

"It's my scapegoat theory. One of us panicked after Pinkie and Marlene's murders. They tried to set another one of us up and apparently failed."

"But why not frame Skipper again like we tried before?"

"Because even if it was revealed it was a mission there would still be a decent chance the zoo would be angry at us anyway for agreeing to such a mission."

"You seem to know a lot about this killer, Kowalski. Are you sure it wasn't you?"

"I resent that statement, Lulu. If it had been me setting things up, it would have worked."

"Well Private, you've backed yourself into a corner," Mason announced triumphantly, "Unlike our theories, you've failed to produce any facts, and anyway, it's two against one."

"I hope when we try you for four murders you'll be able to think of some better excuses," Doris added, getting quite a reaction from the crowd, "Otherwise you might just have to encounter justice."

It was then the severity of the situation hit Kowalski full in the face. Little Private was going to be convicted of crimes that only occurred because he'd started some kind of bizarre chain reaction, and one crime that actually was his. He looked around the zoo. He could tell from the angry shouts there was no reasoning with them. All that was missing from the picture were the pitchforks and burning effigies. Kowalski groaned. Great, everything was going the way of the Salem witch trials. Well, there was only one thing for it.

"Wait," Kowalski objected, standing up, "It was me. I confess."


	8. A Ghost in the Victory Celebration

"That's ridiculous, Kowalski," Doris objected, "the evidence points towards Private. And may I also remind you that heroism is always appreciated except," Doris gave Kowalski a withering glare, "when it's protecting a murder."

"Hm…" Mason pondered the statement, "Blowhole's psychological profiles did name you as one of the people whom it was probable had snapped. Actually, now that I think about it, it is more likely you than Private."

"Mason," Doris sighed, "Kowalski couldn't hurt a fly."

"Think about it Doris," Kowalski countered, "What if it worked just like your theory describes except substitute me for Private. Yes Doris, my heart no longer belongs to you."

"How about the voice on the phone?" Doris replied sceptically, unaffected but the statement. She still wasn't buying the story.

"You weren't my first girlfriend."

"Now that, I don't believe."

"But which theory is correct?" Mason protested, seemingly more concerned with proving Doris wrong than the serious matter that was the current topic of debate.

"Take your pick," Kowalski answered nonchalantly, "Maybe I killed Pinkie out of revenge, then Marlene because she threatened to tell Skipper what was going on between us, then Skipper because I didn't want him to talk, and Julian because by now, I'm rivalling Blowhole on the psycho killer scale."

"An acceptable compromise," Mason stated, satisfied.

"Kowalski," Doris drove up to the point at which if she'd driven a few more feet she'd run him over and, looked down at him, "You're an idiot."

"I am not!"

"You are a complete idiot for thinking any of us would fall for your little ruse."

"The story I told you about the Blue Hen was a lie." Kowalski replied sharply.

"What?"

"I've never cared about you and from the start. In fact, I've only been using you to get information on your brother." Doris stared at him as if she'd been slapped in the face, then suddenly turned away, storming towards the door.

"He's guilty."

"Wait a minute," Kowalski raised a wing, regaining the room's attention. He looked back at his fellow conspirators, smiling as their eyes widened in fear, "You don't think I did all that alone, did you?"

* * *

A day later, Private looked on at the grim scene from the back of the room.

"…We are still unsure of exactly how everything happened," Fred's grandmother, well she wasn't actually Fred's grandmother but they didn't know what else to call her, recounted in her unnerving voice. Thankfully, she'd kept her teleporting to a minimum, "However this zoo's most distinguished criminologists have come up with 41 possible scenarios, all of which point to these five as the perpetrators, and so far we have no plausible theory that describes otherwise. Now," she teleported to the top shelf, her paws raised in dramatic gesture, "with the zoo's almost unanimous approval I sentence all four of you to…"

Private shut the door of the zoovenire shop behind him as quietly as possible. He just didn't understand it. It was obvious Kowalski was attempting to protect him, but his behaviour seemed so strange. Why should he drag Lulu, Rico, Phil, and Bada into it too? And if anyone could think of a way to prove their innocence, it was Kowalski. Unless, of course, he really was guilty…

Immediately Private pushed the dark thought from his mind. That just wasn't true, and he was going to prove it, even if everyone else considered it a hopeless task.

* * *

"What was it you were lecturing us about the other day?" Lulu snapped, "Informed consent or something? Well you can go right ahead and play the hero, but don't drag us along with you!"

"One of us really did kill Skipper, Marlene, and Julian," Kowalski replied coldly, fiddling with a few wires he'd found about the hurriedly cleared subterranean level, "And we're all guilty of at least one crime anyway, I don't see why I should let whoever tried to turn one of us into a scapegoat get away with it."

"We was all glad to see Pinkie's bucket kicked," Bada objected, "None o' dose mooks out there woulda' done nothin' if they knew it was us."

"Ever'one care' 'bout Ma'lene, 'ough." Rico added. Phil nodded in agreement.

"As do I," Kowalski explained, "which is why, one way or another, her killer will face justice."

* * *

"'Scuse me, Doris." Private called, poking his head out of the fishbowl as the dolphin strolled past, "I don't suppose I'd be able to contact your brother?"

"I don't know," Doris replied uncertainly, "I'm pretty sure you'd need permission from a senior…" Private winced.

"I'm kind of the only one left."

"Sorry," Doris apologised, realising what she'd said, "Let's see, he probably won't be busy this time of day… I suppose I could call him." Doris pressed a button on her Segway, and after several seconds her very grumpy looking brother appeared.

"_You do realise I was taking a nap?_" he snapped, "_I was kept up most of the night working on…_"

"Private wants to talk to you," Doris interrupted.

"_He does, does he?_" Blowhole grumbled, still not impressed.

"I'd like to go over a few things about the case," Private elaborated, "I didn't actually understand most of them…"

"_That would be the point of my using technical language,_" Blowhole interrupted, in a slightly more amicable tone, "_Give me one minute, I need to check my notes._" Blowhole stepped off camera, though Private could hear a slight murmur of voiced in the background, "_Just one or two hints…!"_ he heard Blowhole protest before he was promptly quieted. A few seconds later, he stepped back on screen, "_What was it you didn't understand, pen-gu-in?_"

"Right, um, can you tell me more about the toxin that killed Julian?" Private asked.

"_Fast acting, water soluble toxin. The rest is classified._"

"Who in the zoo could have gotten it, then?"

"_Anybody who'd have access to that annoying dart frog, Rico's stomach (I'm pretty sure he has a vial or two somewhere,) Skipper's 'in case the team ever turns against me' weapon's stash, oh yes, and Kowalski's lab._"

"So anyone in the zoo, essentially? Alright, what about Skipper?

"_Skipper was flash frozen, I'm guessing at temperatures around 123K, using a modified Freeze ray, belonging to your resident scientist."_

"And how do you know that?"

_"Because, as embarrassing as it is to admit it, his is the only one that can freeze fast enough that large ice crystals are not formed within the tissue, thus damaging it, and is still portable."_

"How does it work?"

_"If I knew that I'd have my own. I must say, it's an impressive weapon. The biggest problem with conventional lasers, plasma blasters, and disintegrators is that everyone just dodges them. These things however, unless your target gets at least two feet away, will still be frozen as the air around the blast is brought down to extremely low…"_

"Are there any defences to this?"

_"So far, for machinery, none at all, and for life forms it's very expensive: your only option being a nano shell of…"_

"That's quite enough from you," Doris interrupted firmly, "How many times have I told you none of us understand you science jargon."

"_Alright," Blowhole muttered, "Any more questions?_"

"No. Thanks for helping." And immediately Doris hung up.

"I'm sorry if he bored you," Doris apologised.

"No, I think he's been quite informative," Private replied thoughtfully, walking back towards the fishbowl, "Bye, Doris."

Private entered the HQ, listening to the fishbowl shut behind him with a clang. It seemed so lonely without the team, well, technically Rico and Kowalski were a fifty feet below him, but that didn't count. Everything was exactly as they'd left it. Rico's weapons were still laid out on his bunk where he'd been taking inventory of them, Kowalski's experiment set up – he'd been expecting to complete it when they came back from the meeting – and an outline in the dust of where Skipper's latest model kit had been.

Private sat down on his bunk, though not as depressed as he looked; he was actually deep in thought. His mind went over the pieces of the puzzle, and it did seem like Kowalski was indeed guilty, however, it was the way people were acting that prevented him from letting the case rest. Some of them seemed devastated, others indifferent, and a frighteningly significant percentage, and amazingly Rico wasn't among them, seemed outright amused. His eyes drifted over the HQ again, desperately trying to find some kind of lead. Then his eyes rested on that outline in the dust. He knew exactly what was going on.

* * *

"…In summary," Mason announced, and at this there were several stifled sighs of relief from around the habitat, "I think we all owe our great victory over injustice to my esteemed and learned college…"

Suddenly the room erupted into shouts and of surprise as the reptile house was plunged into pitch black darkness.

"Everyone try to keep calm!" Mason shouted, after hearing several thumps, probably people crashing into each other, "It's just a power outage, or more likely, a blown fuse." However his pleas were completely ignored in the panic.

"…Doors are locked…"

"Help me break them down!"

"…What's going on…?!" At this Mason felt a twinge of uneasiness, though quickly brushed this off.

"When the lights come on, you'll probably all find you're pushing against a wall," Mason reassured, though he wondered why the exit signs failed to function. Those were supposed to work in a power failure, right?

"_Boo._" the single word was barely a whisper; Mason could barely feel the warm breath of the speaker on his neck. However, it was over so fast, he was left to wonder if it wasn't just his ears playing tricks on him.

"Couldn't be..." Mason muttered aloud, in a weak attempt to reassure himself.

"But of course it is me!" the familiar voice called from the other side of the room, inciting several screams.

"No!" Shelly screamed, thrashing wildly, "Leave me alone!"

"I am hoping you were having none of de parties," The voice continued, with a haunting lilt that would be cliché if the Madagascan accent was not so recognisable, "without making sacrifices to me."

"What…" Leonard stuttered, "What do you want from us?!" The animals rushed from the centre of the room, trampling all that got in their way as a light flickered on and off in the centre of the room, briefly illuminating the grey furred lemur's face from below.

"I am back to be finding – dramatic pause – my killer!"


	9. The Outline in the Dust

The doors swung open with a bang, flooding the room with light.

"Stop being silly, Julian." Private chided, looking on at Julian's annoyed expression.

"I told you it wouldn't work," Maurice sighed, earning him a glare from his king. All the while this drama played over the gasps and questions shouted by the other occupants of the room, as it was now clear, Julian was no ghost. Somebody still poked him for good measure.

"How…?!"

"Why…?!"

"We've all been the victims of a rather mean game," Private stated, quieting the talking to a low murmur, "K'walski's not guilty." To this the room once again interrupted in to a mixture of angry and surprised shouting.

"That's absolutely ridiculous," Mason objected, speaking for the room.

"I don't know the whole story yet, but if you would all be quiet and listen, I'll tell you what I do know," Private shouted over the crowd, then remained quiet until the noise had reduced to a manageable level, "I suppose I became suspicious when I noticed that about a third of us didn't seem to care that Pinkie was dead. They, mostly Blowhole, Skipper and Marlene, kept referring to it as if it was a game."

"Well that's because it was a game," Mason commented, "It was the only time I've ever helped you out on one of your ridiculous training exercises."

"Wait, you knew!?" Private exclaimed.

"Yes, weren't you told?"

"Um, de bossy penguin might have wanted it to be a surprise?" Julian answered quickly.

"Well, if Kowalski thought it was real, my theory still applies," Mason continued, "the stress of the murder he thought he committed caused him to snap. Marlene's murder was no game."

"Actually, it was." Private contradicted. This was met with more surprise.

"It's nothing to joke about, Private." Mason scolded.

"I'm serious," Private continued, his expression carrying the same inference, "The bloodstain on the floor where she was killed, didn't you find it a bit too bright?"

"It was a rather unearthly colour now that I come to think about it," Mason admitted, "If my notes are correct, I may have even described it as such at the time. It might have been synthetic, and used by the killer to cover up some clue, but she had no pulse."

"Remember how Skipper kept up his film noir act long after Marlene was supposedly dead, and we all know he was only doing it to show off?" Private countered, "How could he impress someone who was dead? What really made me realise was the outline of his model kit. Nobody had touched any of Skippah's stuff after disappeared, that was why there was all that dust. The kit had to have been removed after Skipper disappeared, and why would someone steal a model kit except to build it? Skippah simply took it with him."

It was then Private noticed that the other occupants of the room were looking completely baffled.

"You aren't making any sense," Shelly protested.

"Alright, I'll outline the whole thing for you," Private replied, realising he was guilty of speaking out of context "I've spoken to K'walski, and, in a way, he really did kill Pinkie, so he was quite informative. K'walski, Lulu, Rico, and Bada were chosen by Skipper for a mission I opted out of, namely to kill Pinkie. Phil looped the security footage from the habitat in the office, and Lulu distracted Pinkie. Then Kowalski unlocked the door and Rico knocked Pinkie out with a blow dart supposedly containing a sleeping agent, provided by Skipper. However, the dart actually contained nothing, which was why Marlene had to take it away from Shelly as soon as possible before someone realised this. Because he wasn't actually knocked out, when Bada dropped Pinkie off the wall, all he had to do was fly down, which caused the silent landing. Marlene also walked past the habitat the moment they dropped the body, so they'd be too busy staying out of sight to see Pinkie do this.

"After the team had left, Skipper and Marlene set up the crime scene in the park with some spare parts, one of which contained the sketch of Marlene. They then poured fuel over the parts and set them alight to give the impression of a crash. After the flames died down, Pinkie took his place in the crime scene and Skipper and Marlene planted the evidence pointing to Shelly. Fred could be tricked into telling whatever story they wanted him to. Skipper also prevented Kowalski from touching the body, as he'd quickly realise Pinkie wasn't dead. When Pinkie was taken away for 'autopsy', he merely started his vacation. The report we got from Blowhole was entirely made up."

"Yes, we know all this." Mason commented.

"I didn't!" Roy protested.

"Marlene set up her own murder as a challenge for Skipper to solve," Private continued, "The strange position of the body, the letter and the smashed china, none of which belonged to Marlene as Nigel identified, were all set up by Marlene."

"But she had no pulse!" Leonard protested.

"I'm getting to that," Private replied, "Kowalski told me that he'd told Skipper about a toxin Barry had developed which simulated death. Marlene could easily have gotten some of this, and because she was quickly rushed off by Skipper and Doris, Kowalski didn't get a chance to run any tests. The trench coat clad figure was Marlene, who'd come back when she saw Skipper walking around with Kitka. She, of course, quickly booked a fishing trip for them to leave for: Skipper's disappearance."

"Private, it could have been Kowalski wearing the trench coat." Mason corrected.

"That doesn't really make any sense, though. It would only make him look more suspicious, and it would be perfectly fine for him to just walk up to Skipper himself. Marlene, on the other hand, couldn't be seen since she was supposed to be dead. Also, I doubt you'd see Skipper helping Kowalski up, never mind offer the closest he gets to an apology. Marlene was also the woman Doris spoke to on the phone. Doris wouldn't have recognised Marlene's voice as she hadn't actually met her. As for Julian…"

"I want to be doing de explainy detective talk!" Julian interrupted, jumping up and down, his hand raised in the air like a student desperate to ask a question. However, he continued speaking, long before Private had time to offer him the privilege, "It was gettin' real boringy 'round here. I mean, if you are having to pretend to be all sad, you cannot be having de part-ey! And I heard de bossy penguin was going to be having de barbecue without me."

"This obviously messed things up for Doris, who didn't have time to dispose of the body before Kowalski got his hands on a sample of Julian's smoothie. He wasn't given enough time to complete his analysis, but he did find out that the compound was nontoxic."

"But Skipper was frozen in a block of ice," Burt protested, "You can't survive that!"

"According to Blowhole, who leaked the information before his sister could shut him up, you can with some kind of nano shell," Private sat down on the crate on which he was stood, emotionally exhausted by the story. He couldn't believe all of this had actually happened, "Well, now that we know everyone's alright, I guess…"

"You're just going to take it lying down?!" Shelly exclaimed, standing up from the crowd and marching up to the front, "Because of Skipper's sick game, we were deceived into thinking someone we all loved and respected, Marlene, was dead, that there was an insane killer amongst us, and I'm sure Rico, and Lulu, Bada and Kowalski weren't too happy about being pressured into committing what they thought was murder." There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd, which only spurred Shelly on, "I don't know about you, but I think Skipper should get more than just a slap on the wrist!" the ostrich stretched to her full height, taking a moment to glare accusingly down at every member of the crowd, "I think they need to know just how much they hurt all of us. That's right, people, I'm talkin' revenge!"

"An eye for an eye leaves everybody blind," Private reminded, but his more civilised tones were drowned out by the shouts of the rest of the room.


	10. The Tables Turn

"… Not to seem arrogant, but when you called we were honestly expecting you to say you'd given up," Marlene answered, taking another sip from her drink. She normally wasn't one for parties, most of her previous experience being those of Julian's definition: loud music and sore feet. But the starlit, informal gathering with fresh oysters and Spanish guitar, and her paw entwined with you know who's wing, changed her mind.

"So who worked it out?" Skipper asked, scanning the other party dwellers inside the Penguin HQ, "My bet's on Rico. If you smash enough stuff, eventually you've got to find something."

"Some detective you'd make," Darla chided, "You'd blow up all the evidence."

"I think it was Nigel and Mason," Marlene continued, "Good old fashioned observation and analysis."

"It was pretty surprising to all 'a us when it was Private," Darla corrected, "Same as he put together this shindig."

"Speaking of the boys," Skipper cut in, "Where are they?"

"Oh…" a flicker of a smile flashed across the baboon's lips, "they're working on a special surprise."

* * *

"I won't go along with it!" Kowalski protested loudly, pacing the endless concrete and crates that made up the décor of level nine, "Look, eventually one of us is going to escape, and your hare brained scheme goes out the window. Need I even voice that the sheer inevitability of this makes it more profitable for you if you just give up now?"

"I don't see why you're fighting," Lulu commented disinterestedly, though it was all an act. The tension hung in the air, threatening to snap at any moment, "If anyone was wronged most it was you."

"But we're all going to forgive and forget, right?" Private asked hopefully, "You know what Princess Self Respectra says about revenge…"

"Aw, 'nough o' that," Rico groaned, "don' ya think i' a bad idea 'f Blowhole' cheerin' y' on?"

"What I'm trying to say," Lulu continued, still trying to seem as though she was entirely in control of the situation, "We need your technical knowhow, and at some point, to use your own reasoning, you're going to give it to us. Why not now? It's not like we're going to hurt Skipper."

"I won't have anyone else go through what we did," Kowalski continued to deny, "I'm appealing to your basic decency here."

"And I completely agree with you," Lulu replied.

"You do?" Private grinned, though this was quickly melted into a disappointed frown by the looks he was given by the others.

"Of course, unless we're talking to the person who caused all of this, and still thinks it was some kind of game."

"Lulu, I can understand you're upset," Private empathised, his big blue eyes as adorable as a fluffy little kitten's, "We were all shocked by what happened, and certainly by what almost happened. But we shouldn't exact revenge. We should be the better penguin, or chimpanzee, or…!" Private could see Lulu was by no means convinced, "It might even have been a misunderstanding – Skippah's always been a decent chap I don't see why he'd be so mean out of the blue – but we'll never know if we cut off communication. By passing judgement without knowing all the facts we're repeating our previous actions which almost turned out very badly."

"Well this time we're sure. We have the facts." Lulu stated with conviction.

"They all said that before." Private countered with what seemed like a verbal takedown, however much to the surprise of the group Kowalski donned a thoughtful expression, and said the following:

"You know what, Lulu's right," He admitted, "I'm sorry Private but she's got a solid argument. Well, what can I say or do but offer my services to your plan?"

"Wha'?!" Rico exclaimed, even he saw no flaws in Private's mushy lunicorn logic, if you liked that kind of thing, "'oo lost I'?"

"A clever trick," Lulu rolled her eyes, "I let you out and you warn Skipper."

"I won't!" Kowalski protested.

"Alright, prove it. You know what we need," Lulu tossed him a small pistol, "And before you get any ideas it's not loaded. You have all your tools." And with that she took the elevator up to the next floor, shutting the three foot thick solid steel doors behind her.

"What are you doing K'walski?!" Private exclaimed, as the scientist set to work, "They'll know if you sabotage it!"

"I know Private, but they're going to do it for real anyway if I don't," The senior penguin fretted, "I know their schedule. It'll be close, and I know they'll be watching me, but I've got a chance…"

* * *

"... No, Mason, when you pull the bow string back to your reference point, don't hold it there too long, your arm'll get tired and start shaking..." Skipper stopped mid-sentence as his attention was diverted by a familiar face, "Kowalski! I haven't seen you since I got back!"

"Good evening skipper," the scientist replied with obvious forced gusto.

"Darla says you're putting on a surprise for me." Skipper commented, not noticing the subtle quaver in the other penguin's voice.

"We'll it can't be much of a surprise now." Kowalski laughed, a mistake on his part to force the joviality so far as the brittle sound which was something even skipper could detect.

"Something wrong, Kowalski?" The commander asked with concern, which only made Kowalski glance around nervously.

"No sir." Kowalski replied, though the way he shut his eyes and tried hard not to make it seem he was taking a deep breath for courage said otherwise. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper as he pressed an envelope into the confused skipper's wing, "don't do anything conspicuous but take a look at the pictograms inside; it will explain everything." And with that he vanished into the crowd leaving skipper holding the envelope.

Skipper was carefully making his way towards the ladder assuming that whatever was in the envelope was something he wouldn't want someone to look over his shoulder and see. All the way there he was constantly pulled aside by the various guests, all the time he was hoping it was the terrified scientist. He was almost to the ladder when he spotted the penguin, leaving his lab.

"You know you're supposed to enjoy yourself at these kinds of things," Skipper commented. The scientist all but jumped out of his skin and skipper barely saved the parcel he was carrying from hitting the floor.

"Oh, yes, absolutely." He replied, still glancing around the room as Skipper handed him back the box.

"What's going on?" Skipper demanded.

"Skipper, neither of us has much time," the scientist hissed. Suddenly he froze, staring at someone behind skipper, before barely noticeably nodding and returning to the conversation.

"What's wrong with you? I haven't seen you so nervous since Manfredi suggested game night."

"I... Found something," the man was practically choking on his words as he forced them out. Skipper could tell by the way his wing was crushing his clipboard that he was thinking at the speed of light, though why he did not use the clipboard Skipper didn't know, "some evidence that I forgot to turn in with the rest," Kowalski handed skipper the box, which Skipper quickly opened, inspecting the contents.

"I didn't use any guns in the game. I don't like them, especially because Hans does." But Kowalski was already moving through the crowd. Skipper fought his way after him, just getting the penguin in his line of sight.

"... Good job..." He heard a distinctive British accented female voice coax. A reassuring pat on the back was given by the said female when suddenly she spotted him, and froze, removing her arm. That was strange. He knew Kowalski. He didn't like anyone to get into his personal bubble; even Doris he was still semi uncomfortable with.

"Kowalski, what in the overly cryptic..." The scientist's eyes widened in fear as Skipper approached.

"Stop, Skipper! You're walking right into their...!"

Skipper stared at the scene before him with absolute disbelief. It made absolutely no sense, that or he'd broken the world record for going into denial. Cause and effect just wasn't fitting together, which was probably why he wasn't already running.

"What happened…?"

"Let me make it easy for you," Doris spoke, breaking the room's almost perfect silence, "Lulu and my boyfriend have been shot and you're holding a smoking gun."

"I didn't…! This is some kind of mistake…!" That was when the lights shut off.


End file.
